


100 Year Confession

by CordiallyBoned



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CordiallyBoned/pseuds/CordiallyBoned
Summary: Bucky Barnes needs to fulfill a personal promise in celebration of his 100th birthday.





	100 Year Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goldynwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldynwings/gifts).



> For you, bluebird; from that tumblr prompt.  
> (Happy early birthday lol)

Steve sat at the small kitchen table, sipping from his birthday mug Tony Stark had given him last year. It said in large, overly cheerful blue letters, “I’m a big boy now!” He had intended to throw it out, but always seemed to be in need of a clean cup whenever he remembered. A sleep disheveled Bucky walked in as Steve was finishing up his morning paper.

“Sleep well?” Steve asked, using the rim of his mug to hide a small smile. Bucky glared at him with a familiar sullen look before reaching for the fridge door handle, intending to find something to eat. But before he could pull the door open, he noticed the plate of waffles on the table across from Steve, still steaming-fresh with a pad of butter quickly turning to a puddle on top. Bucky glanced at the rest of the kitchen and took note of the empty plate in front of his roommate, as well as the dirty mixing bowl in the sink, filled partially with water so the remnants of batter wouldn’t crust over and become impossibly irritating to scrape off later.

Bucky had smelled the aroma of food cooking, which awakened the hunger in him and propelled him from his bed into the kitchen. He had assumed though, that Steve had made himself something to eat without Bucky in mind. Sometimes, Bucky was still troubled by the assumptions that came so natural to him after his long and dreadful life; thoughts about how no other person would -- or should -- bother to show him kindness, even in small and mundane things such as preparing a breakfast for him. Some days it was very easy for Bucky Barnes to believe he was not worth any form of kindness, no matter how big or small. His best friend, the most important person in his life, often proved him wrong as the days almost leisurely crawled past. Steve would be damned if he ever let Bucky feel worthless.

“I promise they’re not poisoned,” Steve said, a smile in his eyes as he set his empty mug on the table.

“You wouldn’t even know the appropriate poison to use for these circumstances,” Bucky quipped as he sat down opposite Steve.

“Ah, but that’s how we compliment each other so well; I make the food, and you pick the poison.” Steve leaned back in his chair as he spoke, folding his arms behind his head as a grin began to grow on his face. Bucky paused with his loaded fork at his open mouth, eyeing the smooth, lean swath of abdomen visible as his roommate’s shirt lifted with his arms’ movement. Then Steve let loose a big groaning yawn and stood. Bucky swallowed and studied the grain of the wood table as he continued eating.

“All our enemies would cower before our mighty cooking duo,” Steve continued as he took his plate to the sink. “We’d be the unstoppable Kitchen Crusaders.”

Bucky glanced up, and his eyes lingered on his friend’s broad shoulders, trailed down his muscular back, his trim waist, the lines of his body obvious through the tight white t-shirt Steve was wearing. Bucky was remembering something from long ago. Something two lifetimes ago. It nagged at the edges of his thoughts, made him want to peer closer at it. Even half remembered, he could tell this was an Important Thing to be honored.

Just then, Steve turned around, smiling gently, so gently, and Bucky felt the memory surge into the foreground of his thoughts.  
“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” Steve whispered.

Bucky dropped his fork as if it burned him. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor behind him and startling Steve.

“I’m,” Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.”

Steve seemed to relax, his grin returning, crinkling his eyes just the slightest. It was the same grin from way back when they were both still boys. Back when he made himself a promise. Bucky felt something tighten in his chest, and climb to his throat, making him sound choked when he next spoke.

“I… I have something I need to tell you.”

A concerned look flashed across Steve’s face before his slow burning grin returned.

“Need to tell me how you just can’t live without me, Buck?”

“Yes.” It came out as a strangled whisper.

Steve’s expression froze, and Bucky felt his heart pounding painfully in his head.

“I made a promise to myself,” Bucky spat, suddenly feeling enraged, and he didn’t know why. He felt he needed to run or fight. He was proficient in both, but he knew it wasn’t the solution he needed. “Before. Back then. I told myself if I ever turned 100, I’d tell you.” The words blurted out of Bucky’s mouth faster and faster as he spoke, as if they were birds escaping a cage. “I never thought. I never could have guessed that our lives would, that we would--” Bucky’s face contorted, pain etched into the depths of his eyes. Steve’s face seemed to mirror his agony. “I just, I need to fulfill my promise to myself -- it’s really stupid, but I need to do it, because I never thought I’d actually be 100!” Bucky’s vision began to swim and he dimly thought somewhere at the back of his mind, The Winter Soldier does not cry. “But here we are!” Bucky was shouting now, gesturing to the space between himself and Steve with one wild arm. “Here we are a century later!”

Steve suddenly moved, skirting the table and grabbing his friend in a rough embrace, crushing that space between them the same way he crushed Bucky in his arms. Bucky squeezed back, just barely remembering to be gentle with his metal arm. The thing inside Bucky’s chest was exploding slowly outward, like a bomb in slow motion, and it frightened him. He couldn’t remember the last time he could feel these things so vividly, with so much human passion.

“Tell me,” Steve said softly, so softly, dropping his chin to rest on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky turned his face from Steve’s shoulder, his lips a hairsbreadth from his friend’s ear. His best friend. The most important person in the world to him. Bucky didn’t notice the gooseflesh flushed on Steve’s skin.

“I love you.”


End file.
